ABC Challenge Drabbles
by SlimReaper
Summary: This is a series of drabbles inspired by alphabetic prompts. It's an open challenge, so play along! Kakashi-centric with other characters, will probably cycle through every genre you can imagine. Rated T now but may change depending on my mood. R&R!
1. A

**A/N: Okay, I've been reading a bunch of fics today (stayed home sick from work so was playing on here between sleeping wayyyy too much) and decided I have to challenge my buddies BadSakura and o0-Constance-0o to one! I really really hope some of the rest of you want to play, too. Here's the rules–you can either do short chapters, like no more than 500 words, or a paragraph, or a sentence, whatever you like, based on each alphabetic theme. These themes were created in a very scientific way, aka, whatever the first word I thought of was, or whatever was on my desk at the time. (Okay, I admit I cheated on X, but really, y'all–it's freaking _X_!) :P If anyone else wants to play (and I so hope that you do), please use whatever Naruto character you like. And don't forget to mention it in your comments so I can see what you do with it! WRITE, MY DARLINGS, WRITE! **

**Here's the list of prompts, my first chapter follows directly after. Have fun!**

**A--Apples B--Bark C--Crush D--Departure**

**E--Existence F--Fresh G--Grandiose H--Herd**

**I--Ignored J--Julienne (the type of thin slicing) K--Kept**

**L--Lightning M--Mastery N--Nonessential O--Orange Juice**

**P--Pain vs Pleasure Q--Quirks R--Relaxation S--Stricken**

**T--Type U--Unveiled V--Virus W--Wield**

**X--Xenophile (a person who likes foreigners and foreign customs, food, etc)**

**Y--Yearnings Z--Zealous**

.

APPLES

Autumn was both the best and most frustrating time of the year in Kakashi's opinion, because the fragrance of apples haunted his every step. Of all the things he loved to eat the most, apples were probably the most difficult to negotiate around his mask.

Ramen, miso soup, dango, those were easy–he could throw up a quick genjutsu, steal a lightning-fast bite, and yank his mask back up with no one the wiser. But apples were big, juicy, crunchy things–a fruit that was impossible to nibble silently, a noisy thing that notified everyone around to _look quick, Kakashi's mask's down!,_ crisp white flesh sending trickles of messy sweetness down his chin, dribbling stickiness onto his mask. In the autumn the fruit was everywhere in Konoha, tempting him, taunting him. They even followed him on missions because his fellow shinobi took advantage of them as the perfect on-the-move mission food–compact, easy to carry, cool and refreshing and full of sugar for quick energy.

And he couldn't have _one_.

He called a brief halt for his four-man team now–they'd been traveling for hours at speed, and he knew they were all as fatigued as he was–knowing the damn apples would appear again. Gai and Lee were already munching away, some stupid challenge about who could finish first and he'd just _better_ not have to Heimlich one of the idiots yet again. Sakura ate more slowly, but that just gave her more time to savor each crunchy bite, and he scowled behind his mask as he reached into his pack for a cardboard-tasting ration bar and sat a little away from the others to choke it down.

But instead of the expected stack of hard, foil-wrapped bars, his fingers encountered slick plastic. He paused a moment–he hadn't packed anything like that–and withdrew his hand.

Then he just stared at the plastic-wrapped little package of bite-sized apple slices.

The question of just how the hell this had gotten into _his_ pack was immediately answered.

"Eat, my Eternal Rival!" Gai cried from behind him, triumph evident in his voice as Lee started counting rhythmically–clearly doing some form of exercise to make up for his defeat in the apple-eating contest, as if they hadn't stopped to _rest_. "Regain your Youthful Stamina so that we may Complete our Valiant Mission!"

Kakashi started to roll his eyes, but the cool weight in his hand stopped him. Opening the little package, hands flying through the familiar jutsu as he popped one slice into his mouth… sweet, crunchy bliss exploded over his tongue, and he sighed with pleasure.

Maybe, just this once, he could admit that Gai wasn't _always_ annoying.


	2. B

**B–Bark**

.

No one ever said about Kakashi, _don't worry, his bark's worse than his bite._ They never had to, because Hatake Kakashi didn't bark.

When Kakashi was angry, he didn't bother making threats, growling and glaring and otherwise wasting his precious time. In fact, he rarely bothered even becoming angry because it took far too much energy. Even Maito Gai, the violently green-clad jounin who could get a rise from just about _anyone,_ couldn't make Kakashi lose his temper.

But bite? Oh, his bite was legendary. No one talked about that, either… at least not to his masked face.

He still remembered the first time Team Seven had witnessed his bite. Standing before them as he prepared to face Momochi Zabuza, uncovering both his Sharingan and his true nature with the quick flick of one hand. He'd caught the stunned glance his genin had shared when Zabuza recited his name, his skills, his legend, and he was secretly a little pleased to see three pairs of usually disdainful eyes showing a new respect for their jounin-sensei.

But as it turned out, Sakura, Naruto, and Sasuke weren't the ones truly surprised that day.

That place was reserved for Kakashi himself.

Who would have thought that Uzumaki Naruto–the brat, the loudmouth, dead-last Naruto who had frozen in his tracks at his first sight of enemy shinobi only a day ago–would suddenly show a vicious bite that actually matched his constant barking? Who would have thought that Sasuke could put aside his disdain for his annoying orange teammate and so quickly grasp Naruto's plan to defeat the S-rank missing nin?

For that matter, who knew that Naruto was even capable of planning _anything_ but how to get his next bowl of ramen?

Once Zabuza had been forced into releasing his Water Prison no Jutsu, Kakashi gave the rogue jounin a bite of his own, but he was honest enough to admit he'd drawn the ending out a bit. Wanted to impress the genin who'd stunned him so much.

And because he never shied away from admitting his failures, Kakashi silently beat himself for that bit of ego that let Haku intervene and save his master.

He should've remembered what they never said about him. He'd barked that day–_Yes, I see the future; you're going to die–_and because of that, Zabuza escaped.

It was a mistake Kakashi never made again.

But Naruto… Naruto never did stop barking. And as the years passed, as he weathered Sasuke's betrayal and the loss of Jiraiya and too many injuries and disappointments to count, Kakashi began to take comfort in that. Because every time Naruto barked, every time he shook a fist in the air and loudly proclaimed some ridiculous boast or threat, Kakashi had the distinct pleasure of watching his student make everyone who dared to laugh eat their words because the blond never failed to fulfill every pledge.

With Naruto, his bark _was_ his bite.


	3. C

**C–Crush**

.

Kakashi often wondered if Naruto would ever figure out the real reason Sasuke hated him so intensely. It was _obvious_, but as ever, the blond was Mr. Oblivious. Kakashi didn't really mind that, though. While the two boys struggled to deal with undercurrents that could drown a shark, he had an astonishingly good time laughing about it behind their backs and watching for any opportunity to make things more awkward.

Because if there was one word that described Hatake Kakashi's teaching style, it was _evil._

He was positive Sasuke figured it out first, because Sasuke was everything Naruto wasn't–introspective, unemotional, tightly controlled exterior hiding seething resentment. Kakashi was also positive that realizing he actually had a crush–and on _Uzumaki Naruto_ of all people!–was in large part responsible for much of the young Uchiha's trademark sulking.

It wasn't so much about Naruto's gender. Shinobi were remarkably open-minded about such things, for the most part. Oh, there was the occasional rare prude in the mix (Iruka came immediately to mind, and Kakashi had more than a few theories about _him,_ yes indeed), but that was easily balanced out by the unabashed pervert like Jiraiya… or Kakashi himself, for that matter. Dealing in so much death quickly taught shinobi that life was too short to discriminate based on such silly distinctions. They took a little warmth and a little love where they found it, because a little was all they were likely to get.

No, it was that Naruto was just so… _Naruto._ Sasuke was the final Uchiha, the dramatic, angst-ridden prince of every young kunoichi's fantasies. Naruto was the annoying, loud boy with no clan to speak of (oh, if the village only knew), the dead-last loser. Sasuke was all skill and unlimited potential. Naruto was all boasting and screw-ups. Sasuke possessed the Sharingan, a kekkei genkai of unparalleled value, coveted by many in Konoha and beyond. Naruto possessed the Nine Tailed Demon Fox, a destructive force of unrivaled violence, hated and feared by all.

And that was why, Kakashi thought, the pair was so perfect for each other.

Hormones were funny things. They nearly always led the young to make epic mistakes in love. Hormones didn't care about things like compatibility, or shared interests, or even gender preferences. Yet in this instance, that random chemical attraction had unerringly chosen the best person Sasuke could ever hope to be with.

Naruto's very nature, the polar opposite of Sasuke's, was exactly what the darker teen needed. As a rival, he gave Sasuke a mark to shoot for, a goal to surpass, an example to measure himself against. As a lover, well… Kakashi smiled, flipping another page of his raunchy book. As a lover, he'd show the Uchiha that there was more to life than brooding. Not to mention what Sasuke could do for Naruto. He was already one of the most precious people in Naruto's life, whether he knew it or not. He could be a stabilizing force for the jinchuuriki's wild nature, there was no doubt about that. Naruto had great ambitions but little in the way of plans–Sasuke could teach him that. And if the Kyuubi ever did get out of control, those Sharingan eyes could bring it to heel.

So their jounin-sensei plotted and schemed, finding reasons for the two of them to be alone during missions, giving Naruto hints that the block-headed teenager just did _not_ get, murmuring deeply inappropriate things to Sasuke that he _wished_ he didn't get, because let's face it, Kakashi truly is a pervert without equal… well, apart from Jiraiya, of course… and he does _so_ love to mess with people's minds.

Toward the end of Team Seven's short, intense time together, though, Kakashi began to despair that the Uchiha would ever realize what a gift he'd been given in Naruto and just _do something about it, already_. The already-dark boy grew darker by the day, and the rest of his team could do nothing but watch hate take him where love couldn't follow.

But love is a spark in the darkness, and even the blackest night can't extinguish it altogether.

When Sasuke finally made his choice and turned his back on all of them, chosing hate over love, revenge over life, fighting the obstinate Naruto until his emotions were crushed and his body was beat to hell_,_ Kakashi was the only one who truly wasn't surprised that he still left the blond _alive_.

And perhaps it was that seemingly uncharacteristic act of mercy that finally, _finally _brought it home to Naruto, because since that moment, his determination to bring _his_ Sasuke home has never once wavered.

**A/N: Wow, this one went in a totally different direction than I thought it would! And I'm about 200 words over my self-imposed limit… oh well, sue me. ;) Does writing in Kakashi's POV still make this a Kakashi-centric drabble? **_***scratches head***_

**R&R, please! And don't forget to tell me if you decide to take the challenge, too! :)**


	4. D

**D–Departure**

.

Kakashi wouldn't dare to admit it to her, but he didn't mind leaving on missions. Oh, not that he enjoyed it–it was always a wrench, walking away from her and knowing she would worry and worry and _worry_ until he got back, but if he never left, he would never get to come back home.

And those homecomings made every instant away from her worthwhile.

He'd never been like his classmates at the Academy, never had parents who fretted over him while he was at school and fussed over him when he returned from his first missions. He'd been alone the entire time. If anyone noticed he was gone, they knew he was on a mission and didn't question it. If anyone noticed he was back, they only wondered when he'd be dispatched again.

It wasn't until he was nearly thirty, an age so advanced to be remarkable for a shinobi–most died much younger–that anything changed. And oh, how it had changed.

Kakashi loved coming home–home to that apartment that wasn't his but _hers–_loved seeing her eyes light up as relief washed the fearful tension from her shoulders. He loved when she dragged him inside and ran her hands over his body, searching out his injuries, tending them, scolding him for each one, pinching him in little punishments that made him pretend to wince while biting back smiles that she thought such things could harm _him,_ the ninja who could take a kunai to the face and keep fighting without missing a beat. He loved how she kissed him, held him tight, tore off his shinobi uniform and everything that marked him as a ninja and made him feel more powerful as a mere man in her bed than he ever had when casting the most complex, destructive jutsus.

Invariably he would be summoned again, pulled from the alternate world created by her arms and her love, thrust back into his brutal reality of pain and duty and violence and death. He would tell her goodbye with a one-eyed smile (mask already in place again) and she would tell him she loved him through an answering smile he could almost believe. Such precious words, words he would hold close for a moment before leaving her in a swirl of chakra and leaves–yes, showing off for his lover, but he couldn't help himself.

And then there would be only the mission. Nothing else was allowed to exist until his objective was completed and he could head for Konoha once more, already planning how he would surprise her this time, imagining how she would welcome him home again, would kiss him, hold him, bring him back to life and ask nothing about the mission because although she was a civilian, she instinctively understood two truths–she didn't want to know, and he didn't want to tell her.

No, he didn't mind this cycle of departure and return. It felt so much like _life._


	5. E

**E–Existence**

.

Obito was still alive, and Kakashi spoke to him daily.

At least, he tried to speak to him. Sometimes he fancied he could even hear the long-dead Uchiha's voice responding, berating him for some stupidity, acting as the conscience that had been beaten out of Kakashi almost as soon as he could hold a kunai. The Sharingan would burn, itch, fill with annoying tears, and he knew that Obito was just dying to make his opinions known.

So to speak.

Minato wasn't dead, either. Kakashi's sensei lingered at the edges of his vision–not hidden in shadows, but glimmering almost transparent in the light. He urged the Copy-Nin to stop copying others and strike out on his own, find his own life, his own passions and happiness. Kakashi could do no more than nod at his sensei, acknowledging the advice without taking it–he truly didn't know how at this point. But he kept a close eye on Minato's son, guided the boy, despaired of him, tried to be a sensei his own sensei would be proud of, and hoped that would be enough.

Rin, though… she had never lived. She was a ghost long before the Kyuubi destroyed her physical body. It was almost a relief when she died, and Kakashi could no more forgive himself for thinking that than he could convince himself he didn't mean it. She had always watched him, wanted him, reached out for him, and he'd batted her away as if she were nothing more substantial than mist. Obito hadn't approved of that, but in this case, Kakashi told him to mind his own damn business.

And Kakashi? He couldn't tell where his own existence diverged from all the ghosts who followed him. He honored them the best he could and kept living, waiting for the day his name would join theirs on the cold granite, and he didn't allow himself to wonder if he would follow Naruto or Sasuke or Sakura in shadowy visions afterward.


	6. F

**F--Fresh**

.

Kakashi had seen the memorial stone by sunlight and moonlight, under the glimmer of stars and beneath pounding rain and hail. He'd traced the etched names with reverent fingers, read them from a distance, hid in the trees too far to seen them as more than a faint haze, averted his eyes from them in pain. He'd arrived in heat waves and blizzards and in the darkest hours of night when all but the loudest conscience had finally fallen silent. It was a safe bet that Hatake Kakashi had spent more time at the memorial stone than anyone else in Konoha.

But even he had never seen who or what removed the flowers.

Kakashi never brought flowers--he owed his dead far more than any blossoms could repay--but many others did. There were usually single blooms or small bouquets, not to mention the offerings. The packs of cigarettes started arriving after Asuma was killed. Small cups of sake began to show up when Tsunade died. Other things, rice cakes or candies or other small treats, often adorned the stone monument. Still, no matter how many things littered the area when he visited the stone, they were always gone by his next visit.

And he had no idea who was responsible.

Kakashi was logical, almost brutally so. It was a hazard of being a shinobi. Facts must be analyzed, attacks planned, defenses anticipated and, whenever possible, dismantled before they could come to fruition. Logic did not allow for the spirits of the dead to visit their memorial and somehow make use of what had been left for them. Logic demanded a better solution.

So he continued to visit at odd times, never on a pattern, hoping to catch whoever it was in the act and continuing to fail. And he continued to find fresh flowers, and cigarettes, and sweets one day that were gone the next. It was absolutely maddening. It even drove him to seek a meeting with the Hokage to ask if Konoha employed someone to tidy up the memorial stone.

Rokudaime looked at him like he was slightly more crazy than usual and asked him if he was sleeping enough. Kakashi never brought it up again.

Logic screamed at him when he brought a trio of items one night, moving through the shadows more furtively than fluidly. And just this once, Kakashi ignored logic's demanding voice as he carefully placed those items down–a fresh flower the same lavender as Rin's hair, a tiny bottle of the eye drops Obito had always carried, a cup of Minato's favorite flavor of ramen. Feeling foolish, he bowed hurriedly and returned home without lingering at the stone at all.

The next day, all three offerings were gone. And all that day, his Sharingan didn't burn or itch or tear up even _once._


	7. G

**G–Grandiose**

.

Sarutobi watched his class from the corner of his eye as his students dutifully copied the spelling list from the chalkboard at the front of the room. There were a few whispers from the back row–he'd never had a class where there weren't, and for the most part he pretended not to notice unless things were getting out of hand–but even those seemed muted today. In fact, he thought with a little frown, his class was _never_ this quiet, and especially not when doing something as boring as spelling. No matter how many times he explained that shinobi were cultured, educated, socially and intellectually adept individuals and not mere killing machines, his class of pre-genin were never so happy as when they were destroying something.

Copying spelling words really didn't come close to shuriken target practice.

The quiet stretched out behind him as he graded papers, pretending studiousness just as his students were, but like them, his heart wasn't in it. His gaze kept being drawn to the same place, just as theirs were.

Back to that empty desk, the vacant chair between Hatake Kakashi (and as always when he beheld those cold blue eyes, Sarutobi thought _gods, he's too damn young_) and Uchiha Itachi. That chair should've been filled by the student he'd specifically placed there, hoping the unshakable calm of the Hatake and Uchiha prodigies would somehow rub off on him. Hoping their ease and skill with genjutsu and ninjutsu would make their neighbor work hard to attain the same mastery he'd already achieved with taijutsu.

It had never worked.

He caught the Hatake boy watching him, gave a little smile. It wasn't returned. Sarutobi switched his gaze to the chalkboard again, thinking that a boy of four shouldn't have such a penetrating, unnerving stare. _Perhaps I should have hoped he would rub off on Kakashi instead of the other way around,_ he mused as he reread the spelling list just to have an excuse not to look back at that dreadfully empty chair again.

He stopped at the third word from the bottom: _grandiose._ It summed up the missing boy perfectly, so perfectly that Sarutobi momentarily felt a tightness well up in his chest. _Grandiose_ was the word for him, all right. Grandiose personality that didn't know how to be quiet. Grandiose boasts, always followed through. Grandiose goals pursued with unshakable passion. Grandiose _everything,_ as if the green spandex body-suit he wore was all that kept him from exploding with the intensity of his desire to succeed, to surpass, to become a ninja everyone would admire.

The grandiose claim that he could infiltrate the Stone nin's camp outside Konoha's walls. The grandiose confidence that led him to try even after Sarutobi had forbidden it, telling the Hokage to come up with a different plan, one that didn't risk a child.

And then the thought he'd hated himself for, but couldn't take back–_if it must be a child, make it the Hatake boy._

But it hadn't been Hatake. When the decision of which student to send had come down, he'd grinned with pure joy, flashing white-white teeth and the thumbs-up pose that would become his trademark, and proclaimed, "Do not worry, Sarutobi-sensei! It is wise to only risk a pre-genin while our shinobi forces are so low! I will succeed and bring glory to Konohagakure!"

Never to his family name, because he had no family–and never dreams of glory for himself. Only for Konoha, the village that was willing to send the ten year old to his death.

Sarutobi sighed and gave in to the inevitable, allowing his gaze to return to that empty chair which should have been overfilled with the boy with enough personality for a dozen ninja. _It will be filled again, _he told himself silently_. It will just take time–a great deal of time, but the medics are certain the bones will heal. And the intel he gained despite the torture that broke every bone in his hands and arms has proven invaluable._

He'd even been grinning when he'd finally dragged himself back to the city gates, unable to give that trademark thumbs-up but still grinning and showing teeth that were now blood-stained. "I told you I would succeed, Sarutobi-sensei!" he'd crowed proudly before passing out in Sarutobi's arms.

The bell rang, jolting him back to the present. Sarutobi reminded his students of their homework as they gathered their things–translating their spelling list into three languages, with sentence examples in each. The classroom was empty in a remarkably short time. Sarutobi cleared his desk and erased the board, his mind in neutral, each movement automatic. Only when everything had been set to rights did he walk down the aisle between the desks and, hesitating only for a moment, slide into the seat that had been haunting his class for days.

And only then did he see the carving across the top of the desk.

_GET YOUR GRANDIOSE ASS BACK TO CLASS, BAKA._

In no less than seven languages.

He traced the words with a calloused fingertip and smiled a little to himself. Perhaps Maito Gai was rubbing off on Hatake Kakashi a bit, after all.

**.**

**A/N: Holy crapping crappity crap, has it really been A WHOLE FREAKING YEAR since I've updated this? Muh Gawd, time flies… **


	8. H

**H–Herd**

.

Kakashi sighed as it all started up again. And to think, this morning he'd actually been hopeful they'd make some serious time on the road today and get this mission over with quickly.

But no, that had been foolish of him. This time it was because Naruto had committed the Unforgivable Sin of throwing a pebble at Sasuke's head. Not that Sasuke had even seemed to notice–Kakashi had already begun to despair of anything getting through that thick skull–but Sakura, naturally, just _had_ to defend her precious Uchiha.

That meant screaming. Red-faced. And a bright red face with bright pink hair was enough to give Kakashi a migraine even without the fingernails-on-chalkboard screeching of her voice as she laid into Naruto in a tirade that spanned several octaves and even some Kakashi had never heard made by anything but a pair of mating cats suddenly introduced to a bucket of water.

And of course Naruto, with his completely unrequited crush on Sakura, had to try to calm her down. And the words _Naruto_ and _calm_ were never meant to go in the same sentence, unless separated by the words _is completely incapable of ever being anything even resembling._ So everything he said only made Sakura's fury worse. And since Naruto was genetically programmed never to quit while he was ahead, behind, to the side or even buried, he kept on talking louder and louder to make himself heard over the kunoichi's shrieking.

By this time Sasuke had descended from whatever So-Much-Cooler-Than-Any-Of-You-Mortals-Can-Even-Dream-Of thoughts were percolating in that impenetrable dark head of his and told both of them to shut the hell up.

Being spoken to thusly by her Precious Sasuke was enough to send Sakura to tears. Noisy, noisy sobs of heart-broken anguish, complete with honking, snorting, snuffling buckets of snot. Kakashi winced as she brutally assaulted a handkerchief.

Naturally, seeing his beloved's distress, Naruto tried to comfort her, but since he was even worse at being comforting than he was at being calm, soon Sakura was screeching at him again. It was better than her wailing over Sasuke's rejection, but not by much.

Really, Kakashi thought (as he tried to convince himself that he didn't even know this trio, and even if he _did_ admit to knowing them, they weren't traveling together because he might've been a sadist occasionally but he wasn't masochist, and even if he admitted that he _was_ traveling with them, there was no way Sandaime hated him so much that he'd made Kakashi their jounin-sensei, and even if he unfortunately really _was_ their jounin-sensei, he was deaf and couldn't hear them, and even if he _did_ have legendarily sharp hearing, he wouldn't really think of all the other sharp objects he had on his person and all the ways he could employ said objects to bring about blessed, blessed SILENCE), with all the drama these damn genin managed to create…

Actually getting them to shut the hell up long enough to actually manage to _teach_ Team Seven anything was harder than herding cats.


End file.
